


The Spanish Civil War

by Wizard95



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, also imagine Collins' as Jack in England is Mine, don't mind me, he's not blonde for once -- that was hard for me gimme some credit, i wrecked my brains ok, no idea how college works in the uk, probably the worst title to a fic ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22250335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizard95/pseuds/Wizard95
Summary: For a prompt I got ontumblr: "You're overdue on this book and I want it so I'm tracking you the fuck down."
Relationships: Collins/Farrier (Dunkirk)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	The Spanish Civil War

The kind girl on the counter makes a face at seeing him approach, Collins can only guess what a pitiful sight he is: bags under his eyes, uniform in disarray, hair unwashed and an empty coffee cup on his hand. If he'd crossed paths with any of the prefects roaming around he would've definitely got an earful for it -- _that's no way to present yourself as a student! Fix that bloody tie!_

Ah, that would've really been the icing of the cake. A real shitty way to end his day indeed.

"I thought maybe you'd forgotten to notify me" Collins smiles, aiming at friendly conversation but coming out rather miserable, "perhaps you'd lost my ID number?"

"No, I'm sorry" is all she says, genuinely sounding like she means it, and Collins _knows_ she means it, so maybe he'd get lucky today.

"Are you sure it's not returned?" he insists, and having a look around to ensure nobody's within earshot he leans in closer, "I can go get it for you, kill two birds with one stone, aye?"

Collins looks at her name tag and puts on his most miserable wet-puppy face. It's no use trying to flirt at this point, it's the fifth time he turns up this week looking like a zombie from The Walking Dead and she's been over the counter every single time. The fact that he doesn't remember what she's called is clear evidence of his exhaustion.

"Sally..." he looks up and puts both his hands together in sign of prayer, maybe even pouts a little, because who cares about decency at this point? " _Ple_ _ee_ _ase?_ "

She shakes her head at the screen with a frown.

"I'm really sorry, I'm not allowed to give out students' personal details. I'll give him another call later, how about that?" She offers, and Collins lets out a sigh and nods pathetically, thinking _it's a he, what a fucking_ _twat_.

He's ready to turn on his tail and leave without the only copy of _Crónicas de la Guerra Civil Española_ in the whole campus yet once again. Except Sally then shouts a warning, pointing over his shoulder to one of the tables behind, "I said no drinking -- for heaven's sake" she storms out of her seat to the two young girls.

Collins doesn't waste any time, he stretches his hand over and turns the computer's screen towards him, sloppily fishes his phone out of his pocket and snaps a quick photo of it and puts it back in place before the librarian has even turned around. When Sally comes back making an exasperated face, Collins tries to walk away in the same tired pace he walked in and not give himself away.

Outside, out of her field of vision, he checks the photo. Some idiot named Farrier, block D, apartment 201. A law student.

_Fucking superb._ _Bunch of self-centered pricks._

He storms out towards the east side of the campus, praying to all the powers that be for a quick exchange of words and a successful retrieval. He only even needs to read four chapters, but he's got only two days to do so, digest the information and have a decent sleep to sit a decent test.

Collins gets quite a few odd looks as he strolls into the hall and turns directly to the stairs. His sweater gives him away as a Humanities student but he's sure that's not what's getting him stared at. If he bumps into any seniors here, he's bloody done. They'll revoke his pass on account of his appearance. They're known to be a bit of a pain in the ass, the prefects from this block... Then again, it's not like he goes out at all. Wouldn't be much of a loss, really.

He can't hold back his rotten mood as he knocks on the blue door exasperatedly, eager to get this whole business over with so he can return to his dormitory, have a proper shower and put something in his stomach that isn't an energetic beverage.

Ten seconds pass by and there is no sound coming from inside the room. He tries again, letting out a whine.

Nothing.

He's pushing his luck, but he tries on the doorknob anyway.

Locked.

He bumps his fist on the door a couple more times and he's short of losing it right there and then -- all the stress from midterms weeks about to come flooding out.

"Fuck’s sake, I ain’t your bloody landlord Peter!" the door finally swings open, "I told you to get a dupli-- _oh_ ", and behind it is one of its room's inhabitants, wearing nothing but a towel over his hips and dripping water over the wooden floor.

On any other day, Collins would've taken a moment to appreciate the sight before him, but today isn't 'any other day' so he goes straight to the point and pays that six-pack little to no mind.

"Are you Farrier?" he barks. The stranger blinks, mouths something but makes no sound, taken off guard by his hostility, no doubt. " _Are_ you?" Collins pushes.

Now this manages to put a scowl on the guy's face, and he crosses two tattooed arms over his chest. He's built like a brick wall and it only manages to set Collins' teeth on edge even more.

"Yeah, who's asking?"

Collins hears himself let out a sigh.

"Look, I need a book you have. Spanish Civil War, just give it to me, I have a test." He adds, feeling like his soul is leaving him and taking his eloquence along with it. His eloquence and his ability to make himself sound less Scottish for other people's sake.

Collins finds he doesn't give a shit about other people's sake today. It's their problem if they don't understand his accent, so they should sort it the fuck out.

Farrier smiles at him, at his extended expectant hand.

Collins feels like a ticking time-bomb about to go off.

"Have you got the book?" He asks another time.

"What are you, the library police?" Farrier scoffs.

"Gimme the fuckin' book, alright? You're way overdue" he snaps, his brain catching up with his mouth too late.

(Although even later he finds he doesn't care).

"Jesus mate, it's only a book" he turns around and disappears for a couple of seconds, when he returns he's no longer sporting that amusing smile and he looks Collins up and down in anger before putting the heavy paperback copy on his free hand. "Take a fucking break."

Collins stumbles back as the door is slammed on his face.

The sound brings him out of his reverie, and he blinks at the book on his hand, considering an apology for the briefest of moments before turning around and walking towards the stairs. By the time he's outside the rush of adrenaline is gone and there's a slight pain on his chest. Still, he pushes on until he's back at his own block.

Should probably cut down on the caffeine...

* * *

They meet again one week later.

"Hey"

When Collins has fallen asleep on his usual spot, a hidden table in a secluded corner of the History section of the library. The usual drill.

"Hey, Spanish Civil War…"

He jerks awake, somebody’s insistent hand on his shoulder.

When he looks up Farrier’s staring him down, but Collins only realizes it’s him after he’s put his glasses back on and ran a hand over his drooling mouth.

He checks the time on his phone, disoriented.

“Yeah, they’re closing up”

“Ugh”

Just then, the lights over them go off, and Collins stumbles to his feet, knocking his book over to the floor and almost slipping on a pencil trying to get it back. Farrier strolls over the corner of the towering shelf of books and shouts: “Hang on!”, then he returns and gets Collins’ laptop under his arm and the backpack hanging from the chair as well, like he’s picking up his child from school.

Farrier takes a step away but stops when Collins quickly starts running his hands over the table to clear the remaining balls of paper. Then he makes sure the chair is quickly tucked in place and bends over to check there’s nothing being left under the table.

Farrier clears his throat.

“Take your time” he says sarcastically.

The remaining set of lights go off.

“Shit” Collins mouths, running along now, “don’t think they heard ye”

“You don’t say -- _wait!_ ”

They catch Arthur at the door.

“Blimey, boys. Almost left you!”

“Sorry Mr. Cornwell” Collins grins, sheepishly.

“Ah, Collins!” the old-man adjusts his glasses and leans over to him. “You again.”

It sounds incriminating, and Farrier lets out a small laugh next to him.

“Should get you a key, I should…” he mumbles as they pass him to get outside. Collins shudders and makes a sudden stop, causing Farrier to bump right into him.

“Shite, forgot me ja--”

“Well then, night to you gentlemen” but Arthur is already biding them farewell and very bent on returning to his own cozy and warm room. Collins doesn’t have the heart to stop him.

He’ll make a run for it.

He tugs at his bag, hanging from Farrier’s broad shoulder.

“Thanks” he mutters under his breath, and Farrier hands him the laptop as well.

“So, how was your test?”

Collins ignores the question for a brief moment, as he puts the laptop inside the backpack and then puts the backpack on.

_There’s no reason to be a dick_ , he thinks. Except he kind of wants to be a dick to this guy.

“Dunno” he retorts. He rubs his hands over his arms, only a thin shirt on, and nods in Farrier’s direction without actually looking at him. “See ya” he takes a step forward only to be stopped by that arm again.

Sighing, he turns to look at him now, and Farrier’s undoing his thick woolen scarf, much to Collins’ dismay.

“Your dorm’s further” he says, aiming to put it around his neck as well. That’s when Collins reacts, pushing his hands away along with the scarf.

“What’s your deal?” he asks, nodding again in Farrier’s direction and feeling his nose starting to drip already. Couldn’t have been a coincidence, this guy turning round a corner and finding him passed out exactly a minute before the lock-down. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Collins knows, on the contrary: the library sofas aren’t comfortable at all, and the air conditioning is turned off at night.

He’d have woken up with a cold and a stiff neck.

“What’s _my_ deal? What’s _your_ deal, mate? You always this snappy?”

“Fuck off, I’m not snappy” Collins says, and closes his eyes in defeat just a second after. “ _Maybe_ I’m snappy. I’m having a shitty semester, why are ye following me around?”

As Collins puts his hands on his trousers’ pockets to warm them up Farriers quickly takes advantage and rolls the scarf around his exposed neck before he can stop him.

“Well, you’re the prettiest guy I’ve seen in a while and I think you need someone to keep you in check ‘cos you clearly overwork yourself” Farrier quickly explains, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

Collins blinks, taken off guard, and he steps back.

“What…?”

“Yeah.” he shrugs again, nonchalant.

Collins has a look around but sees no-one except for a couple of pigeons and a curly-haired blonde running back to the cafeteria. Is there a camera hidden somewhere near? Is someone hiding inside that trash-can with a cellphone?

“I like a guy in glasses, sue me.”

Collins lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Okay, bye” he’s resolute to leave now, and Farrier doesn’t try to stop him this time. He catches up with him, though, openly grinning.

“I’ll walk you”

“ _Alright_ ” Collins stops on his tracks and faces him. “You want an apology for last week, I’m sorry I was a dick, as I said: I’m having a shitty semester,” he takes the scarf off and feels the cold embracing him fully back again, and his nose is impregnated with that fucking cocoa axe deodorant. “Please kindly fuck off.”

“So that’s a no to the date?!” Farrier shouts as Collins hurries away.

By the time he’s back at the dorm he’s openly shivering, Farrier’s perfume is stuck in his shirt and he quickly takes it off and locks himself in the bathroom to have a hot shower and pretend what just happened most definitely was a figment of his imagination.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love and appreciation!


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